


Cheers

by genello



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-16 22:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3505964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genello/pseuds/genello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asahi checked his phone for the time. Just after one a.m. Almost time for last call, and then he could focus on shoving the drunks out the door. Some I might need to escort out sooner, he thought, peering at the group in the corner booth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the night of

**Author's Note:**

> this work is pretty short overall, but i hope you guys enjoy it regardless :)

Asahi checked his phone for the time. Just after one a.m. Almost time for last call, and then he could focus on shoving the drunks out the door. From the looks of it, it would be quite the task tonight. _Some I might need to escort out sooner_ , he thought, peering at the group in the corner booth.

  
They'd been causing a ruckus the entire night, the six of them, but only three were the main troublemakers. One a girl who had “bad ass” written all over with her leather jacket and piercings. Another a decently tall guy with a shaved head. And the third almost looked too young to be there given his shrimpy height and youthful, round cheeks.

  
The girl and another, quieter member of the table were regulars, and they were the main reason they hadn't been ushered out already—the guy was usually plenty pleasant, and the girl, well, the boss had a crush on her. Boss Ukai would not be happy to learn they kicked her out while he was away for family.

  
Daichi had been giving the table the stink-eye for the last hour, though, and even Suga had been sending displeased glances their way. The bar was busy enough on a Saturday night without their commotion.

  
“Oi! Quit leerin' at Kiyoko!” the loudmouth with the shaved head yelled.

  
A guy sporting a mohawk at the next table whipped around, squawking, “You talkin' to me, jackass?”

  
_Oh no, not another fight over Shimizu..._ Asahi thought, rubbing one of his temples lightly. The bartender was far too popular. True, she made excellent tips and retained a great number of customers, but it led to far too many brawls for Asahi's liking—even if they were few and far between.

  
“Damn right I'm talkin' to you! Keep your peepers to yourself, asswipe!”

“What—she your girlfriend or somethin'?”

  
“It's basic respect, douchebag!” The loudmouth began rising from the booth, and the mohawk mirrored the gesture.

  
“Oh, you wanna fuckin' go?” the mohawk snarled.

  
The loudmouth jutted his chin forward and leaned across the table. “Bring it, _shitty boy_.”

  
“Asahi!” Daichi shouted from the bar, staring pointedly at the bouncer. Asahi took that as his cue, and they both began climbing through the crowd toward the corner. Then events became hazy.

  
A punch was thrown.

  
A shirt was stripped.

  
A chair was broken.

  
Probably in that order.

Daichi wrangled both the mohawk and the loudmouth into a headlock in each arm. Asahi grappled the shorty's arms from behind and under his shoulders as he struggled to join in the fray. This was slightly unsettling in its difficulty. The guy's arms actually had muscle strung like wire, as small as he was, and he seemed plenty familiar with using his small size to slip out of sticky situations.

Unfortunately for him, Asahi was also familiar with using his larger size to keep the peace. He had been a bouncer for a few months now, and he liked to think he'd gotten the hang of it.

As Daichi and Asahi dragged the three figures out of the bar, the rest of the group followed along, mostly either laughing or making “oh shit” remarks. About halfway through the crowd, the guy in Asahi's arms finally let the situation catch up with his head, and his struggling nearly ceased entirely. Crushing his spiked hair against Asahi's chest, he turned to look up at his incarcerator.

Something caught in his throat as Asahi locked eyes with the ruffian, who also seemed taken aback for a moment. Lips split into a loose, lopsided grin, which Asahi found disarmingly captivating. Before Asahi could look away as he lugged them through the door, he heard a genuine—albeit slurred—voice.

“Fffuck me, yer attractive... Can I suck yer dick?”

And then he let go. The guy stumbled forward. The others rushed from behind to steady their companions.

“No fighting in our bar! You wanna fight—take your money elsewhere!” Daichi roared. “You're not welcome here!”

Clapping a hand on Asahi's shoulder, he wheeled them around to reenter the bar and leave the miscreants behind. Asahi took one last look over his shoulder, cheeks burning; the shorty was blocked by his friends, but he could almost see the spiky hair bobbing energetically in between the bodies.

Asahi turned and followed Daichi back into the building, unaware of the flashes of brown eyes taking in his retreating figure.

Inside, Suga hollered out last call, and a rush of customers made their final orders at the bar. Daichi stepped back behind the counter to help make drinks. Not much longer, they were closing up shop. Bottles were stored away. Counters were wiped. Glasses were emptied, chairs were scattered, and jackets were donned. Twenty minutes flew by in a breeze, and Asahi was soon herding their clientele out the door where their earlier troublemakers no longer stood.

After locking the doors, Suga beckoned everyone to the bar where he and Kiyoko lined up a row of shots for them. Fights weren't unheard of, but they sure weren't regular, which left everyone a tad uneasy. General murmurs of assent and gratitude passed around as the small glasses were clinked and the liquor tossed back.

Whiskey. Top shelf, too. The liquid burned down Asahi's throat, and setting down the glass, he found himself asking Suga for another.


	2. the morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opening his eyes, Nishinoya was forced to realize that no, there really wasn't anywhere comfortable. Not on Tanaka's front lawn, anyway. He tried sitting up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> switching to Nishinoya's pov :)

Birds were chirping. Loudly.

This cacophony was the first catalyst in rousing Nishinoya from his slumber. Next was the brilliant light beaming across his eyelids, causing the beginnings of a squint in its shining glory. Also, his muscles ached as a grittiness settled into his joints. The surface he rested on was hard and without any cushion, finally pressing him to at least take stock of his surroundings and find a cozier location.

Opening his eyes, Nishinoya was forced to realize that no, there really wasn't anywhere comfortable. Not on Tanaka's front lawn, anyway. He tried sitting up.

_Urk, bad idea_. A fuzziness in his head washed over him as he shifted. He jotted a mental note to move slower if he didn't want to hurl. And given the fact that Ryu had left him outside, hurling would probably not improve whatever transgression he'd committed.

Checking his pockets, he found his phone and wallet. Luckily, all the cards and coins were in their proper pockets. Relieved at that much, he moved on to his phone.

Message from Kinoshita: _Ohmy g od that was sos tupid_

Message from Narita: _I can't evn talk to u guys rn_

Message from Ryunosuke: _YOURE A SHIT NOYA_

Message from Saeko: _LOLLL Ryu's pisse d com bak latr_

Message from Ennoshita: _Im nevr drinking with u guys again._

Nishinoya scratched the back of his head, grinning stupidly. Ennoshita was a liar, but he'd call the guy out on that later. Guess he wouldn't bother the Tanaka residence this fine morning, though. He'd have to take the bus home.

Getting to his feet proved a more difficult task than he anticipated as a wave of fuzziness overtook him once more. He stumbled, then wobbled, then stood.

“Shit, I'm still drunk...” he said, a breathy laugh escaping. His vision swam briefly before clearing as he checked his wallet once more that, yes, he did have his buss pass.

Reassured, he began the trek to the bus stop, drunkenness aside. He'd visited the Tanaka household often enough that his feet went into autopilot, steering him toward the bench four blocks away. A few passers by gave him the upturned nose or pointedly looked away, but he laughed it off. He was never one for shame, and the alcohol simply bolstered that. He managed to mostly walk in a straight line, faltering over cracks in the sidewalk only a couple times.

It being a Sunday morning, he didn't expect too many people out and about, but as he approached the bench, another figure also seemed to be waiting for the bus. Nishinoya fought the urge to whistle lowly. Looked like the guy had suffered a rough night. His long hair was roughly pulled back in a loose bun, several strands falling around his face. The scruff on his jaw was closer to a ten o'clock shadow, and his eyes were weighed down by heavy bags. That was all aside from the stains on his t-shirt and jeans.

“Dude, you look like shit,” he said without thinking. Startled, the guy looked up with wide eyes, briefly wincing, but all Nishinoya saw was the striking jaw and warm brown eyes and _oh god he's hot_. Nishinoya bit his tongue.

“Says the person whose shirt is inside out _and_ backwards.”

Blinking, Nishinoya looked down. Guy was right—didn't even look like his shirt either. Wait...

“Oh my god, I'm wearing two shirts!” he yelled, surprised he didn't notice the awkward layering sooner. The stranger flinched at the outburst. “Whoa, sorry, man—hangover?” Nishinoya asked in a vague attempt to be semi-polite.

“That obvious, huh,” the guy answered weakly. “You, too?”

Nishinoya grinned as radiant as the sun. “Nope! Still drunk!”

A chuckle wormed its way out of his chest, his eyes crinkling. “Shouldn't be surprised—the way you were drinking last night.”

“Wait—you were there?” Nishinoya squinted his eyes, trying to place the man, but he came up short.

“Well, ah... Why don't you tell me what you remember first?”

“Okay...” Noya answered slowly, finally taking a seat on the bench. “There was six of us, and we were bar-hopping downtown a bit before winding up at the Crowbar. Were you before that?”

“Nah, keep going,” he urged.

“Okay... and then... like, I dunno, we were just goofing off, being obnoxious idiots. We got a few warnings, but nothing serious. But then Ryu got provoked by some guy with a mohawk and took his shirt off. I—oh! This is his shirt! I must'a put it on to save it or some shit!” he reveled, laughing, his hands gesturing haphazardly. “Anyway, I think I was probably egging him on a bit much, and right as they were about to throw punches, we were dragged out. I think the bouncers were pretty pissed. And I think we might'a been banned? I don't remember for sure... And then we got riled up outside, and Saeko took off her shirt as a show of solidarity, and—oh shit, that's why Ryu's pissed! The others covered their eyes but I passed the fuck out when I saw them!”

Nishinoya brought his hands to his face, groaning softly. “Why did I have to look... They were perfect, but why did I have to look... And that was Narita's favorite bar—no wonder he's mad... Maybe the ban was just temporary?”

The guy leaned back on the bench, gently saying, “Ah, about that... You can talk to Sawamura, but he was pretty mad... One of you broke a chair, so... he wasn't especially happy.”

Nishinoya glanced up from his hands. “Wait, you know the guy's name? Are you close with the owner? Could you put in a good word for me maybe? Or at least for Narita—he was in the bathroom when the whole thing started, anyway. Some advice or anything would be really appreciated!” He leaned toward the stranger, eyes the size of golf balls.

Putting a hand on the back of his neck, the guy replied, “I think it'd be best if you all tried talking to him on your own, but... as for some advice, wait a few days? He's pretty scary when he's mad, so... let his temper cool off a bit first.”

Nishinoya nodded enthusiastically, his whole body rocking with the motion until he realized how sick it made him. He must have made a face because next thing he knew, the stranger was digging a handkerchief out of his pocket. Holding out the scrap of faded orange paisley, he said, “Ah, if you need to hurl, you can wipe your face with this...”

With a shake of his head, Nishinoya smiled brightly again. “Dude, you are so nice! I think I'm good, but seriously! That's so nice!”

The stranger flushed, averting his eyes. “Take it anyway, just in case... You're about to ride a bus—they're pretty bumpy some days.”

Nishinoya dutifully pocketed the handkerchief, cheeks reddening a bit at the brush of contact. The smile wouldn't leave his face; it stuck like a tacky glue.

“Wait! You said you were there—where were you?”

The stranger's flush deepened. “Oh, right, um, I... was the bouncer.”

Nishinoya's jaw slackened. Sure, the guy was bigger than him, but so were most people. How could someone so kind be... a bouncer?

“I was the one who dragged you out of the bar...?” the apparent bouncer tried meekly.

Placing a hand on his chin, Nishinoya tried to recall the previous night a bit more clearly. He remembered shoving Tanaka's shirt over his head, and that was right before he tried to bust in and help a bro out, which was when arms came up behind him to trap him in place. He remembered grappling with said arms, tugging and twisting as they yanked him across the bar, until he looked up at his captor and— _no_.

His hand slid further up his face. Nishinoya took a quick glance at the bouncer again. He caught his gaze, and flushed crimson as he realized he very much recognized those umber eyes. The improved lighting and increase of facial hair had completely thrown him, but now there was no mistake.

“'m so sorry,” he mumbled. “I was drunk—“

“You're still drunk...”

“Don't remind me—gotta piss like a racehorse,” Nishinoya said, groaning. “Seriously, though, man, I'm so sorry. I can't keep my mouth shut sometimes when I drink and I just—”

“I wasn't really all that upset about it,” he interrupted, cheeks blazing as he stared at his lap.

“Wait, you mean—“

“Oh, my bus,” the bouncer said, hastily standing. Nishinoya felt very small as the sudden magnitude of the man overtook him. He really was tall. Broad, too. Turning, Nishinoya saw he was right as a bus came rolling down the street.

“What number is it?” Nishinoya asked.

“Seven.”

“Oh, I need twelve.” Guess he'd have to wait a little longer. Guess he wouldn't be taking the bus with the bouncer. Well, at least he was guaranteed to not puke on the guy. That was a plus.

“All right, well, sober up soon,” the man said, walking towards the curb. The sight of his back retreating brought on a sudden wave of deja vu, and all Nishinoya could think was _Ya know, for a bouncer, you were still pretty gentle last night_. He shook his head.

As the bus pulled to a stop, Nishinoya yelled, “Hey, wait! What's your name?”

Over his shoulder, the guy called, “Azumane Asahi.”

“Nishinoya Yu!” Nishinoya returned, grinning.

Azumane waved and boarded the bus, soon disappearing from sight. Nishinoya groped at the handkerchief in his pocket. He'd have to return it eventually, and Nishinoya knew just where to find him.

 


	3. a few days later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entering the Crowbar completely sober was a new experience for Nishinoya. Not only that, he'd decided to pay a visit before it got busy. He figured three in the afternoon was a safe bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for reading! this was my first haikyuu!! fic, but hopefully it won't be the last! :)

Entering the Crowbar completely sober was a new experience for Nishinoya. Not only that, he'd decided to pay a visit before it got busy. He figured three in the afternoon was a safe bet. Of course, half of his reasoning fell in the face of his restlessness; the longer he sat and waited at home, the more time he had to reconsider every nuance twenty times over. And the nuances were many.

It was bizarre walking through the door at this time of day. Workers milled around setting things up and cleaning any messes left over from the night before, moving at their own leisurely pace. The business had been open for an hour or so now, but Nishinoya only counted two customers along the bar counter. He stood near the door, fidgeting awkwardly. Usually there was someone to check his ID first thing, but no one seemed to be manning the door this early.

“Hey, kid! Are you lost?” a young bartender with gray hair called. Nishinoya glared at that, lips pressed into a thin line while walking up to the counter to proudly present his ID. He didn't mind being short, all told, but being taken for a child... That was frustrating.

The bartender scrunched his eyes a little, glancing between the card and the owner before handing it back, an easy smile replacing the scrutiny.

“Sorry 'bout the mix-up. What can I get ya?”

“Actually, is Sawamura in? I was hoping to talk to him.” First things first—if he didn't get them unbanned, Ryu really would never forgive him.

Curiosity colored the bartender's face. “Yeah, he's in the back. Gimme a sec.”

Nishinoya took a seat on one of the stools lining the counter and fiddled with his phone while waiting. No new texts, no snapchats, no nothing—looked like everyone was still recovering from their bender over the weekend. Nishinoya himself would probably be eating cold pizza right now, if it wasn't for—

“You needed to see me?” Nishinoya looked up from the screen. A blocky man with cropped dark hair stood before him, arms a bit beefier than he was prepared for. He fought swallowing a gulp in his nervousness; if shit went south, it would go very south. Another reminder to be on his best behavior. He pocketed his phone. 

“Yeah, I'm Nishinoya Yu. Nice to meet you,” he said formally, holding out a hand.

“Sawamura Daichi,” the man answered, accepting the handshake. “What can I help you with?”

No good way to go around it. Best to just dive in.

“My friends and I were kicked out Saturday night, and I wanted to make sure we weren't banned entirely. I'm not questioning your judgment that night—we were a bit too rowdy—but if there's any way for that to not be a permanent thing, I would really appreciate it! If there's anything I can do—like, washing dishes or some shi—stuff, please let me know!”

Sawamura blinked at the outburst.

“Oh, that was you that night! Friends with the shaved head kid, right? And the punk chick?”

Nishinoya nodded exuberantly. “Yeah, that's them! A few others, too, but they were quieter. Narita wasn't even there but—well, I mean, he was there, but he was in the bathroom at the time and—“

“Hang on,” Sawamura interrupted, holding up a hand to slow the onslaught. “You were asking if you were banned?”

Nishinoya nodded again, his face showing the early signs of puppy eyes.

Sawamura chuckled. “No, no—you weren't banned. One night of rowdiness isn't enough to warrant a ban. Can you imagine how many customers we'd lose that way? Not to mention, our boss would kill me if I banned that punk chick,” he added with a grimace.

“Oh, your boss likes Saeko?” Nishinoya asked, a smile coming easy to him now that their continued patronage was permissible.

“Is that her name? Yeah, he's got a thing for her. I don't really care if you tell her or not—just don't let him know it was me,” Sawamura said, a finger on his lips. Nishinoya mimed zipping his lips shut before breaking into a wide grin.

“So, Nishinoya, right? Can I get you anything while you're here?”

“Actually, I've... got another favor to ask,” he began, scratching his wrist absently. “Your bouncer, Azumane—does he work today?”

Sawamura's eyes hardened. “Did something happen? He didn't handle you too roughly over the weekend, did he? He's a gentle guy overall, but when he gets some adrenaline, I suppose he can be a bit—“

“No no no!” Nishinoya corrected, hands waving in front of him. “Nothing like that! I just... have to return something.” The handkerchief was practically burning a hole in his pocket.

Sawamura's posture lost its tension instantly, and he smiled in relief. “Glad nothing went wrong. Nah, he doesn't work tonight, but he said he'd swing by later. I can shoot him a text to get him here sooner, if you like.”

“Yeah, that'd be great! Normally I'd say no, but I don't really wanna sit around here all day... no offense, of course!” he amended.

Sawamura laughed. “Not at all! Want anything while you're waitin'?”

Nishinoya nodded, ordering a beer. He sipped at it while the bartenders shuffled around, taking care of miscellaneous duties. He messed around on his phone, downloading a few free games and checking his social media sites in the meantime. A few customers came and went—none stuck around too long. His leg began twitching in agitation; he hated staying still so long, and the anticipation was getting to him a little more than he'd like to admit.

“Um, Nishinoya?”

Said person looked up from his phone, and his leg instantly stilled. Looming behind the bar stood Azumane, a hand on the back of his neck and a small, sheepish smile hovering on his face.

“Azumane,” Nishinoya breathed, noting a strand of hair that had strayed from the loose bun.

“...You wanted to see me?” Azumane prompted.

“Ah! Right!” Nishinoya yelped, delving a hand into his pocket, retrieving the handkerchief. “I needed to return this. I washed it—the bus made me a little sick after all. Good call, there—thank you!” he said, thrusting the orange fabric forward.

“Oh, you didn't have to—thank you. I'm glad it helped,” Azumane replied, fumbling only slightly as he accepted the fabric. A bit of static jumped between their fingertips at the slight contact. “So you puked on the bus after all?”he asked, a teasing grin flitting across his lips.

“Nah, I held it 'til I got off, but someone's hedge has excellent fertilizer now.”

Azumane laughed. “And for free, at that.”

“What can I say? I'm a giver,” Nishinoya proclaimed, clutching his chest and throwing his head to the side in a dramatic fashion.

Azumane shook his head. “You're something, all right... Oh, did you get your friend his shirt back?”

“Ryu? Nah, figured I should clear shit with Sawamura before seeing him. He's still mad, I think.”

“Sawamura? He didn't seem mad to me—“

“No, no—Ryu's the one that's still mad. Maybe. I haven't tried talking to him yet, but I figured I should get the ban thing sorted first.”

Azumane blinked. “Wow, you actually thought it through.”

“You wound me, Azumane.”

The bouncer smiled. He bit his lip momentarily before choking out, “Just—just Asahi is fine, actually.”

A giddiness crept into Nishinoya’s voice, heat coloring his cheeks. “Then I’m Yu!”

Unsteady smiles balanced between them as a slight static settled in their conversation. Nerves tacked themselves needlessly onto every word, a minor electric shock charged in each sentence. Thunder rumbled from Asahi’s throat as lightning laced Yu’s. He wasn’t accustomed to this sort of voltage in a voice.

It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating.

Nishinoya took a deep breath, steeling himself as he straightened his back. His hands tightened into fists, which was maybe a bad idea since it made him aware of how sweaty they had gotten in mere moments.

Asahi shifted his feet. “So um—“

“Please go out with me!” Nishinoya blurted with red cheeks. “Like, a drink, or dinner, or ice cream—or anything! Just—will you go out with me!”

Asahi's face froze, stunned, before a wide grin cracked open.

“I—of cour—yes!” he answered, laughing quietly, cheeks turning a ripe pink. Nishinoya, meanwhile, resembled a cherry tomato. A very, very happy cherry tomato.

A shrill whistle shrieked from the door to the backroom. They looked over to see the gray-haired bartender punched Sawamura in the shoulder. Hard. Nishinoya was surprised he didn't notice them leering in the doorway earlier, but he had been preoccupied. Asahi gestured for them to be quiet, but they just hollered their congratulations instead, laughing all the while. Nishinoya waved at them, his smile threatening to break his face from how broad it was.

Asahi turned back to him—a healthy blush still staining his cheeks.

“I'm not doing anything right now... Are you?” he asked, his hand finally brushing in place that loose strand of hair.

“Now I am!” Nishinoya chirped. Asahi mirrored Nishinoya's grin with one of his own. “So where—“

“Wanna just stay here? Drinking crowd won't be around for a while, and there are plenty of places to eat within walking distance later,” Asahi offered. Nishinoya nodded, and after grabbing two glasses of water, Asahi began to direct them to a table opposite the bar counter—away from meddling eyes and ears—when Nishinoya tugged at his wrist.

“Hey, Asahi, how about there?” he asked, thumb over his shoulder to indicate none other than the corner booth.

A chuckle escaped the bouncer's chest, and he nodded, walking them instead over to the booth. The cushions were a dull red, and they both moved carefully to avoid the one broken section on each end.

The table tipped a bit as Nishinoya balanced his hands on the surface, but Asahi evened the weight by adding his own. They didn't touch, but they were close, the air between them tense like that between magnets. It was a good tense—the kind that initiated shy glances and too easy smiles, a taut line that drew conversation from their lips and pulled at their shoulders until their faces were close and hands had nowhere to go except on top of one another.

A thumb brushed a wrist.

Teeth clacked over a stutter.

Someone stole a kiss.

Probably in that order.

  


End file.
